I wish

In my life I have wished for many things, but never in my life have I wished to be sick. Not "on my deathbed" sick, just sick enough where my head is clogged and I can't smell a thing.

To be sick this kind of sick is what I wished for the other night.

One of my goals for this year is to be more on top of cleaning. It's not that I don't clean the house. I do. But I always feel like I am playing catch up. Over Christmas break I found a cleaning chart on Pinterest. I will elaborate on this chart in another post, but it breaks down which chore to do on which day. It is so easy to follow, but I started off on the wrong foot with it last week. Everything went downhill after that.

By Saturday night everything had caught up with me. My mind was all over the place and I had trouble focusing on just one thing. I finally said "Fuck it" and plopped my butt on the couch with a pack of chocolate chip cookies and some episodes of Big Bang Theory. I stayed up much later than I should have. Finally at 1 in the morning I decided to call it a night. Morning?

When I reached the fifth or sixth step going upstairs, I smelled it. Shit. That's what I said and yes, that's what it was. I was hoping and praying that my son had gotten up to use the bathroom and did a poor job of wiping himself. Needless to say, I was wrong. Oh so wrong.

You see, my boy has issues with certain dairy products. He can drink milk, he can have ice cream, he can eat a piece of cake covered with frosting. But too much of a good thing and we're in trouble.

Once I got to my son, who happened to be sleeping on the floor, I realized just how much chocolate strawberry milk he had been drinking the past few days. Obviously the answer was too much. Cleaning up that mess and having to give my boy a bath was the last thing I wanted to do at 1 in the morning.

What I can't figure out is how the husband didn't realize what had happened way before 1 in the morning. When I questioned him, he replied that his sinuses have been ridiculously stuffed up.

And that, my friends, is why I wish I was sick too. And maybe that the husband wasn't so he could have dealt with that mess.

Sticky Situation

I took the past week or so off from blogging. With the kids being home, it was family time. And really, who has time to read let alone post when kids are running circles around them?

Well, that and my computer died and I haven't quite adjusted to typing on my daughter's. Going from a netbook to a desktop is more of an adjustment than you would first think.

I had every intention of writing a few posts last week. Those plans got pushed back to Saturday evening while waiting for the ball to drop. Vodka got in the way of that ever happening, which pushed my writing back to Monday. My plans for Monday evening were to meet up with some lovely ladies for a nice dinner and discuss my new job. When I came home, I planned on putting to "paper" what ha been floating around in my head. And then it happened.

The text no mother wants to get. Especially a mother who went through hell and high water to get her son a toy he really wanted for Christmas - a Leappad.

I was munching on some fried calamari while waiting for my Mahi Mahi to come when I decided to check my phone. With my son having a cold, I was waiting for a text from the husband asking where the cold medicine was. I noticed that my husband had call AND left a message. Assuming someone must be really sick, but not being able to hear him talk in the restaurant, I sent a text asking "What's up?" The response I got?

"Leap pad is damned near ruined"

Hoping the husband was just blowing things out of proportion, I naturally asked why. Gum was the answer to that question.

What the hell could my boy possibly do with gum to ruin an electronic device was beyond me, and quite frankly I wasn't sure I wanted to know details. Over the next few minutes I learned that Gojo had got most of the gum off the device. That led me to believe it was ON the LeapPad and not IN it. Thank goodness!

At this point I assumed things were taken care as best as they could be and I would deal with it more when I got back home. I thought I would end the conversation with "As long as [the LeapPad] still works. Take all gum from them asap." Apparently our conversation was not over. How do I know this? Because I then learned that the gum that was stuck on my boy's face and chest WOULD NOT COME OFF!!

What the hell kind of gum was this?!

Needless to say, my son is banned from using his LeapPad until further notice and neither child is allowed to have gum for a very, very long time. I'm including my daughter in the gum banning because for all I know, she was somehow involved. Just because a 10 year old should know better does not mean they always make the right choices.

It's never a dull moment in this house, but that's not to say I didn't learn something from all of this.

1. Hide any and all electronics when I am going out for the night.

2. Hide all gum and any candy that resembles gum.

3. Vegetable oil does wonders for removing gum from plastic.

I hope your Christmas break was better than mine. I do have many happy moments from our break. I promise to share them once I find and remove all gum from this house.

A little consideration please

We all know what happens when we assume. Perhaps I am being an ass in this situation, but that doesn't mean I'm not upset.

Months ago, before summer, my mother-in-law informed me of an upcoming wedding. The husband's cousin was getting married in November. I'm not too familiar with his side of the family, but had every intention of attending. A few years prior we also attending this girl's sister's wedding. Our son didn't join us because he was still a teeny baby, but his older sister was with us.

Now that both of our kids are older and able to go to such events, my MIL was quite excited to buy them new outfits. A new dress for our daughter and an actual suit for our son. I was looking forward to seeing my little boy in a suit and later watching him cut it up on the dance floor.

My MIL and this girl's mother are close and talk quite often. This wedding has been the topic of their conversations for quite some time.

September 11th was the day of the bridal shower. I thought it was tacky, but not my decision to make. I went with my MIL and my daughter. My MIL even bought the bride-to-be a gift specifically from my daughter. We talked of some hassles that went into setting up the bridal shower, as well as conversations about the wedding itself.

Two weeks ago I finally received one of the fanciest wedding invitations I have ever seen. While looking over the RSVP card, I became confused. There were 3 options of what to choose for our main dinner course. I wasn't sure what to do when it came to the kids. Were they expected to eat one of those 3 options, or would there be child friendly meals at the reception?

I held off on filling out the card until I talked to my MIL. I was getting the impression our kids weren't invited to this wedding. My MIL called the bride's mom and asked her what I should do. The response we got - she didn't think children were invited to the wedding (even though there are children in the bridal party).

In all of the conversations my MIL had with the bride's mother, you think "no children allowed" would have been mentioned.

This wedding is on a Friday, at 5pm. Who am I going to find to babysit my kids since everyone I know works? But before I could even worry about that, my MIL told us to not even bother going to the wedding.

I should have assumed that not everyone wants children at their wedding and reception. However, this bride should also have taken into consideration how difficult it can be to find a babysitter on a weekday afternoon.

I'm relieved to not have to attend this wedding, especially since our daughter's birthday is the following day. But I'm upset that this little detail of no kids wasn't mentioned earlier than a month before the wedding.

This is how we do it

I'm sure I've mentioned in the past that I love to shop. For goodness sakes, I have a "Shopaholic" label on more than one post! As much as I love to shop, I also love a good deal. The other night I hit the mother load of good deals.

My midgets went back to school this week. A-fucking-men!! But unlike most of their friends, my kids went back to school with, gasp, old tennis shoes! Major fail on my part, but in my defense, we hit some financial bumps earlier in the month that we are rebounding from. That may or may not be related to that "shopaholic" label I just referred to.


So anyway, let's forget about that bump and continue with my kick ass deal, k?

I took the midgets to Payless. Back to school means a huge buy one, get one half off sale. On everything. I also scored a 20% off my entire purchase coupon.

Each child found a pair of shoes that suits (and fits) them perfectly. Since I had that extra coupon, I though I would get myself a pair of shoes. I resisted the urge to buy yet another pair of boots. Not only would the husband kill me, but none of them had heels. Seriously, where can a girl get a gorgeous pair of sleek black boots with a heel? Sheesh!

While I was looking, my girl found herself a pair of boots. Must be hereditary. The pair she found were the exact ones she wanted last year but could never find in her size. I sent a text to the husband about a budget. Once I had a number, I did the math and we went ahead and grabbed the last pair of those lovely boots in her size. I also grabbed myself some pretty pink tennis shoes and a few extras for my boy.





Let me break down everything in that picture.....

What we could have paid, rounded to the nearest dollar to make the math simple for me...

Boy shoes $14
Girl shoes $15
My shoes $21
Girl boots $37
Umbrella $10
Sunglasses $6

Total $103

That's really not all that bad, but I expected to pay closer to $75 with the discounts factored in.

What I actually paid.....

$50

I was nothing short of stupid excited when I saw that 5 and the 0. Somehow those $37 boots rang up as $14. Maybe it was a glitch, but I surely wasn't going to say a word.


What's the best deal you ever got on something?

White knuckles

I must admit I had so much fun writing Friday's post, Time to Let Go. Reading all the link ups for Writing On Edge that day was also a blast. It's amazing how much meaning can fit into 140 characters.

I know I left those who visited hanging because I didn't explain what I was referring to. It was interesting reading what everyone guessed. Many guesses were for a child's first ride on a roller coaster. Since I am a coaster fanatic, that wasn't it. Only one person guessed correctly, and that was CDG from Move Over Mary Poppins.

There were also many guesses that my tweet post was a parenting metaphor. In a way, this was true. Those who guessed that make me want to write a completely different post about letting my children go as they grow, especially with today being their first day back at school (hallelujah!!). Perhaps I'll save that idea for another time.

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I don't remember having many fears as a young child. My mom always tells me the story of her and I going to the World's Fair in New Orleans when I was a few years old. My uncle, who happened to be afraid of heights, took me on the monstrous ferris wheel. Me bobbing around checking out all the sights from that height certainly didn't do anything to calm his nerves.

A few years later, this all changed. My mom met my dad and the three of us started doing things as a family. This included going to a local carnival. My dad loved to take me on the ferris wheel. From the carnival at my school, you could see my Grandma's house from the top. If him and I were lucky enough to get stopped at the very top, he would distract me by pointing out my Grandma's house. As I would look to find it, he would start to rock the car we were sitting in. I quickly grew to hate ferris wheels.

Now that I am grown with my own children, I love to take them to carnivals. However, I rarely take them on the ferris wheel unless I absolutely have to. I have had operators ask me if they need to stop the ride because my white knuckles gripping the safety bar match the color of my face.


Last week was the annual carnival at the church by our house. I took the kids up earlier in the week to check out the flea market and play a few games. Later in the week, the husband joined us. The kids wanted to ride the ferris wheel and he knows it's his job to go on that ride with them.

While we were there, we ran into my friend J, her kids, and another friend of theirs. The next 2 hours were spent watching our kids bebop between all the rides and games. Our boys, who are 5 and 6, kept asking to ride the ferris wheel. J feels the same way about that ride as I do, so we did everything we could to distract them. Finally we couldn't take anymore of their begging.

Our girls and another friend they ran into proclaimed they were riding that horrible ride together. J and I decided to let our boys ride with the other friend who was already in our group. He is older than our boys so we knew they would all be fine. It was us who were worried.

We watched our boys stand in line, proudly holding their little red tickets. As I watched them board the ride, I felt my heart jump into my throat. My knuckles turned white around the prizes I was holding as I watched them go up, up, all the way to the top. Our boys peered over the edge to try and find us below. I wanted to scream out "Sit down and hold on!"

Down, down they came and I realized it was time for me to let go.

My son is 6, but he is still the baby. As much as I miss the days when he (and his sister) crawled around the house, I know that I need to let them go and watch them grow.

Jealousy

Jealousy is an ugly thing. It can also be a crushing thing. It crushes your spirit. It elicits fear. It can make you think ugly thoughts about people.

There is no one particular person that I am jealous of at the moment, but my husband keeps coming to mind. His professional career is really starting to take off. I am so unbelievably proud of him and I will continue to support him every step of the way, but I have to wonder. Why can't that be me?

I want my name to be out there. I want to be known for what I do. I want people to come to me for advice and direction.

I am a mom. I am very proud to be a mom and I love my children dearly. If someone has a parenting question, I will do my best to answer them. But there is more to me than just a mom.

Part of my feelings stem from blogging. You get what you give and while I am making an effort to give, I do have a life outside the computer. Those who are well known around the blogosphere and other social network sites have put a lot of time into getting their name out there. I respect that and they should be proud. I am trying to follow suit, but it is not easy. And I am not a patient person. Patience is a virtue I have yet to learn.

Blogging is not the only aspect of my life that brings out the jealous side of me. I am a crafter. Mostly crochet. I put a lot of work into what I create. A Lot! Someday I would love to be successful at selling what I create. I could go the Etsy route, but that can be a pain in the ass. I make things, I pay to post pictures of my creations, I promote, and wait. If nothing happens, I pay and promote again. I know it's not expensive, but how many time do I have to post before to really starts to feel like I'm losing money and it's no longer worth the effort?


When people ask what I do, I want to say something other than a SAHM. I am very thankful that I am able to be a SAHM, but I also want something that is just me. Something that I can showcase to the world and hope to get more than a "Good job" before they walk away.


I realize this sounds like just another woe is me post, and I suppose that it is. But I do have a plan. I am going to carve out some time for just me.

My midgets start back at school next week (thank god!). I have some major work to do on organizing this house (help!). Some of my time will also be spent volunteering at the school (wine, please?). In between that, I am going to get crafty and find a way to promote myself. I know it will take time, and I need to constantly remind myself of that, but I am going to find a way to make a go of this crafting thing that I am so passionate about.

Led Zeppelin, alive and touring?

Led Zeppelin - that's the band I went to see the other night. At least according to the Subway employee.

It has become a tradition to stop at a particular Subway for dinner when we head out to see a favorite band at our favorite concert venue. While waiting in line, a customer not from my party asked an employee if there was a concert that night. He was probably suspicious due to the higher than normal amount of traffic driving through Middle of Nowhere Town. The employee ever so nicely answered this man's question. There was a concert on this night in question and the band playing was Led Zeppelin.

Luckily me and my crew weren't quite as clueless and were able to avoid the disappointment at the ticket window once we arrived at the concert venue. Although we all like Led Zeppelin, the four of us were really looking forward to...




The husband and I went to watch Def Leppard last year and it's quite possible that it was one of the best shows I have ever seen. Not only do I love their music, but their stage show was fucking awesome!

A few months ago, when I heard the announcement that they were coming back, I begged and pleaded for the husband to buy tickets. When I mentioned the concert to my brother and sister-from-another-mister, drool spilled from their mouths as they asked to join us.

It would have been an awesome show without them, but those three people made the whole night that much better. I haven't laughed like that in a long time and my throat still hurts from all the talking, singing, and screaming.

I also need to thank my brother, again, for being so prompt in paying us back for his ticket. Because of him, I was able to purchase the t-shirt in the picture above. I also made another purchase, but it's only for the eyes of my husband. *wink, wink, nudge, nudge*


So if you ever want to go see one of the best concerts ever, I highly suggest Led Zeppelin, er Def Leppard!

If I tell you

For the past few PYHOs, Shell has talked about judging others, something I know I am guilty of. I think everyone is guilty of this and if you say you don't judge, you're lying. The only difference is, some are respectful enough to keep their thoughts to themselves.

I am not an expert, nor do I claim to know all of the answers to much of anything, but I do know what I believe. I believe that many of us judge in order to make ourselves feel better about our shortcomings.


I started this blog so I would have a place away from family where I could write about my own fears and shortcomings. I don't want to talk about my kids over here, but I still do. My kids are my safety net. I may feel alone in the moment, but I know other parents have had those days where all you do is scream because your children refuse to listen.

My kids are not the only part of who I am. I have fears and doubts. I have had experiences that still haunt me to this day. I have my own beliefs that I do not express when they may differ from yours. I could write about all of that here. Yet I don't.

I am afraid of being judged.


If I tell you my kids have had cookies for dinner, will you tell me I am a bad parent?


If I tell you some days I would rather crawl back into bed than play with my kids, will you tell me I'm just trying to get some attention?


If I tell you about the night I almost lost my husband, will you chastise me for not trying to prevent it?


If I tell you I'm not sure if there is a God, will you turn and walk away, or preach to me to prove your beliefs?


If I tell you 2 men or 2 women should be granted the same rights as me and my husband, will you shake your head in disgust and tell me how wrong that lifestyle is?



I may mention these things, but fear holds me back from taking it further. I have never received a negative comment, but I fear if I write more about my feelings and beliefs, I will have one. Or many. Or maybe none at all - do you not care or did I scare you away?


I constantly worry about myself and my family. I stand firm in what I believe, except for religion.

I also wear my heart on my sleeve.

I worry, even when I don't have to

A night out with friends. I am ready to go. I wave to my kids as we drive away.

I wonder what they will do while we are gone.


From the passenger window I watch the fields pass by as we head down the highway.

I wonder if my son is still watching the bulldozers digging up Grandma's street.


We stop at Subway for dinner. Five dollar footlongs for all!

I wonder if my kids are eating their pizza. It's not from our usual pizza shop.


We arrive at the concert site and quickly open our beers. We chat as we watch those around us stumble to the ground.

I worry about what my kids are doing. Are they fighting? Did someone fall? They are quite clumsy.


We make our way in to hear a favorite singer. The music is loud as we sing along.

I worry my kids are watching too much tv. Did they choose a show not allowed in our home?


The music is over. We find our way back to the car. Traffic was light in the direction we chose. The back roads are dark, but they have an advantage.

I worry that my kids are still awake. It is much past their bedtime, and they don't like the dark.


From the passenger window I watch the fields pass by as we head down the highway. The fields that were once covered in sun are now peppered with the gentle glow of fireflies.

I worry about my kids, but I know they are safe. They are surrounded by family and I by my friends. We will always be there to keep each other safe.






*to answer the question as to what my kids chose to watch- let's just say my 5 year old now knows the theme song for Cops!*

Rockin' with my knight in shining armor

Mommyfriend Lori and Tina from Life Without Pink have teamed up to create Project Marriage- an interactive love movement designed to get back to the simple joys of marriage and the love that brought you there.

This month's challenge was to not only have a date night, but to avoid talking about the kids while on your date. The date part was easy. My sister-from-another-mister, the husband, and I had been planning out last Wednesday night since May, when Kid Rock announced he was coming to town. At first I was worried about not talking about the kids. It's something I love to do. But once the alcohol entered the picture, the kids were the furthest thing from our minds!




Sheryl Crow was also touring with Kid Rock, but we weren't interested in her. We chose to empty our cooler of tasty beverages while she played her show. We talked about things going on in our lives now as well as things from the past.

While we were talking, we realized that alcohol can be an ugly thing. When Mike's Hard anything claims to have a punch, the advertisers aren't kidding. Mike kicked my ass! But just when I thought I had it bad, we noticed a couple making their way to the venue. The girl was up against it! She could barely stand let alone walk. Security quickly swooped in to check on her, followed by the police. Once they showed up, her man bolted! Glad I wasn't her on so many levels!


Once Sheryl had played a good number of songs, we decided we should make our way in. We found a spot on the lawn where we had a good view and could be easily found if any of us had to leave for a drink or bathroom break.

Before we knew it, Journey was being played. Once we heard "born and raised in South Detroit", we knew the show was about to start. The next few hours were full of screaming, singing, and dancing. I'm honestly surprised any of us had a voice by the end of the night. Especially after Bawitdaba. Flames were flying on the stage and Kid Rock revealed all of his sexiness by taking off his shirt.


By the final song, Born Free, I realized that the three of us had sobered up for the most part, but that wasn't the case for other people there. I was trying to get a video of that last song because the pyrotechnics were just awesome. Out of the corner of my eye I noticed a man. He was so nicely waiting for me to finish before walking in front of me.

When I lowered my phone, he came over to talk to me. I don't remember much of what he said because it was loud, but I did mange to catch "computer", "face page", and "tree house". This was when the husband swooped in to make him move.

The guy began to shake my husband's hand as more gibberish spewed from his mouth. He obviously had no interest in leaving us alone. Since he refused to listen to my husband telling him to move along, the husband knocked his beer out of his hand and pushed him away. Thank goodness for my knight in shining armor because that was the one and only time of the night where the cops were no where to be seen!


Minus a few bumps in the road, which are par for the course, the night was amazing. Just like with the 2 previous times I've seen Kid Rock, his show was exhilarating. Seeing him with 2 of my favorite people made it so much better. I can't wait until our next concert experience in August.


I would like to point out that my friend also has a child. We all managed to make it through the night without talking about any of our kids. Until we got back to my mom's house and found my son sleeping under her boyfriend's feet!

I don't like to lose

Competitions

I love them.

During football and hockey seasons, one can find me on my couch, head to toe team colors, eyes glued to the tv, and possibly profanities escaping my mouth.

During soccer season for the kids one can find me as close to the field as I am allowed, maybe more. Camera in hand, cheering my kids on.

Even though I'm not always very good, I often like to compete with myself. After all, apps in the Android Market Place were meant for me right?
hello 3 versions of Angry Birds!

I've also been known to compete with the husband. Tennis. On the Wii. Because I suck at it in real life.


What I do not like to compete with is the husband's job.

We have been married for over 9 years and I have competed with his jobs since the beginning. The first of those jobs called for early mornings and late nights. Quite often I would fall asleep before he even came home. That job, while it may have sucked, was our life line. With a new baby, I could not work. I couldn't ask him to change something that we desperately needed.

With his current job, he is aways on call. Something breaks? Here comes the husband to swoop in and fix it. However it is rarely an easy fix. Computers rarely cooperate when you need them to. The office hours are thankfully closer to 9-5. Actually 7-4. Even if I didn't take him to and from work, he would almost always be home for dinner. However, work does not stay at work. His smart phone is his lifeline and his computer could pass for our third child. The husband often babysits programs to make sure they continue to work.

He loves his job and I am so glad for that. Finding a job you love with good pay is not always easy to attain. As happy as I am for him, I do not always love his job. If it comes down to dinner out with the family or fixing something for work, work always wins.

I understand he has to do what he has to do. This job gets our bills paid. We are finally at a point financially where we can buy ourselves things we want, but may not necessarily need. Many good things for the husband, as well as me and the kids, have come from this job. And I hope there will be more in the future.

But I don't like that I have to compete with the job.

And I don't like to lose.

Not in my bed!

I have a love-hate relationship with bugs.

To be honest, it's more like tolerate-hate.



I have come to terms that bugs will get into the house, no matter what you do to prevent that. Especially when you have kids who run in and out of the house all damn day! Flies and moths will be let in. For a while we had stink bugs. Thankfully not too many and thankfully the hose on my Dyson has a pretty good reach! Even spiders I have learned to accept. As long as the husband is home and can kill them for me!

What I don't like are the bugs that try to get personal. And by personal I mean the ones who think they can hitch hike their way in our house.


The other night I had stepped outside. I have a habit of leaving the back porch light on. We all know how light attracts bugs. Thankfully there are a few spiderwebs in the corners of the porch. This is the one and only place I like spiders - outside, eating bugs that have the potential t enter the house.

When I was ready to come back in and head to bed. I made sure the lights (in- and outside) were off and the back door securely closed and locked. I kicked my flip flops off under my computer chair, grabbed my phone, and headed upstairs. I set my pillows how I like them and smoothed out my blanket. I pulled the tie out of my forever ponytail and sat down to find something on tv to fall asleep to.

As I was sitting there, I felt something on my neck. I assumed it was my hair falling against my neck because it was now free of the forever ponytail. I shook my head ever so slightly hoping to speed up the process on my hair falling onto my neck. The crawling sensation was still there.

Thinking my head shake was a failed attempt, I reached my fingers up to my neck to run through my hair. Instead of my hair falling onto my shoulders, a bug fell onto my lap.

June bug
Very annoying and very stupid bugs!

Ew, ew, and just ew! Bugs are not on my very short list of one 6-foot tall blond men who can touch me in my own bed.

Thank goodness my son left his flip flops by the bed. Heaven forbid I have to smoosh something with my own shoe!

The trip where I left my mark

School trips. We all go on them. I know I certainly did!

I could share about my many adventures through France and Italy. I did give a sneak peak here after all. Even though that trip may turn out to be a once in a lifetime adventure, there is one school trip that will forever stand out in my mind.

Washington D.C.


Midway through high school, my Computer Arts teacher put together a little trip for his 50 or so students. Looking back I have no idea how our trip to D.C. related to the class, but I won't complain. It was one of the first trips the husband (then boyfriend) and I took together.


We visited all of the popular tourist attraction.

Outside and inside the Capitol Building

We rubbed our fingers over the names on the Vietnam Wall, desperately wishing someone had thought to bring paper.


We toured the Holocaust Museum. Tears fell from our eyes as we walked the bridge over hundreds of tiny shoes. All from children who were taken too soon. We read stories and letters of love that was not permitted to bloom. Our tears echoed as they hit the cold, grey floor.


We drove our tour bus through Arlington National Cemetery.

A silent prayer was said for John F. Kennedy and we stood at attention before the Unknown soldier. The sky was filled with gray. Sadness was all around.

Not all of our time in our country's capitol was spent in mourning.

Every time I go through a metal detector, my memories of the White House come flooding back. My friend set them off numerous times. We assumed it was her earrings. After all, she had more metal than skin in her ears. Turns out it the under wire in her bra!

As we circled the Smithsonian, but never went in, we watched gray squirrels dart to and fro. If we bent down ever so slowly, one would run and eat crumbs from our hands.

Our very last day we stopped at the zoo. A zoo always makes me feel like a child, no matter what city I'm in. I vaguely remember there were Pandas, which we didn't have at our zoo back home. I also remember losing my lunch by those Pandas. And probably by a few other exhibits as well. I thought it was the rain from Arlington that made me sick. After all, didn't our mothers say you'll get sick if you go out in the rain?

Even though that trip was one I would never forget, I was as happy as a sick person could be to get back on the bus and go home. Most of the students slept in the big comfy seats on the ride back north. My friends and I sat in the back, rehashing our trip. Except for one who was hiding in the bathroom. I can only imagine what he was doing in there. I'm not sure I'll ever know because I made him get out. The last words I heard said to me from that trip were "Hey, you just puked on my shoe!".


My family and I have plans to return to D.C. in August. The husband and I are quite anxious to return. We know our kids will always remember it. Let's just hope no one gets their shoes puked on!





I would like to point out that our teacher rocked then and he rocks now. Have you ever heard of the country band, The Stickers? My former teacher is their drummer!

It is what it is and it's always there

Because I feel like something should go here before I jump right into what was a difficult post for me to write.....

From Shell - just a brief reminder that everyone linking is pouring their hearts out and we should all be respectful in our comments. ;)



Anxiety is a state of uneasiness or tension caused by apprehension of possible future misfortune, danger, etc; worry (via dictionary.com)


Anxiety is using a new recipe for dinner. Will they eat it? Is the recipe a keeper?


Anxiety is going out in public wearing clothes that fit, not baggy clothes you can hide in.


Anxiety is sending your accident prone son outside to play. It's only a matter of time before his bumps and bruises become true emergencies.


Anxiety is laying in bed listening to your daughter cough well into the night. Most illnesses trigger her asthma. It has been a long time since she has been admitted to the hospital. Will that other shoe finally drop?


Anxiety is getting in the car after the first big snow and hoping you can make it back home.


Anxiety is getting in the car to pick my husband up from work, knowing there will be traffic along the way. Will the cars behind me see that I am stopped or will I get hit again?


Anxiety is wondering where another child will fit. The husband has stated our two children are enough, yet he makes no effort to prevent a third from entering our lives. I am also partly to blame.


Anxiety is the lump in my throat, the rocks in my stomach, and the lack of words to express what I feel deep down inside.


Anxiety is thinking about what tomorrow will bring.


Anxiety is clicking publish.

Those were the days. Maybe?

Liz at a belle, a bean, & a chicago dog is doing a meme of sorts. We all remember how incredibly awesome we looked in high school - crazy clothes, wild hair. Ya, good times!

I love sharing old pictures because sometimes they're good for a laugh. I had to get in touch with a friend of mine. She is the queen of all picture circa the high school days. Also? My mom can't seem to find my actual senior pictures. I even went through her boxes of old pictures myself. If I didn't know any better, I'd say my brother is loved more than me. Thanks, mom! (love you)



I would love to lie and tell you that this is my senior prom picture because I think it's a great picture. Other than the "hold you date just so" pose, of course.

But my actual senior prom photo is this....

We looked so thrilled, don't we? And yes, that is a tie-dye shirt my boyfriend (now husband) has on under his jacket. It wouldn't have looked so bad if he wore a tie that didn't have some nature scene on it. Owls, I think.

I'm still not sure why, but I was hell bent on wearing one of my mom's old dresses. I loved the color. I loved the way it felt on me. What I did not love was how I stood out compared to my friend's dresses!

No one told me short was the *the* style in '97!

Before you start wondering what kind of crazy looking hotel our dance was in, we were on a boat.


I went through a lot of different looks in those four years. My freshman year started with crazy patterns accompanied by sky-high ponytails held in place with a scrunchie and teased bangs.

The middle years were full of ponytails held back with the first thing I could grab in the morning, rock hard bangs curled under, only covering half of my forehead, and clothes any color that resembled black.

In my senior year, my mom jumped for joy when I slashed her grocery bill by abandoning hair spray. But the black clothing? That stayed with me for many more years.

My year book picture.

Looking at some of these pictures, I'm not sure if I miss how I looked in those days or not.

Shaken, not stirred

It was a horrible and scary incident. As backwards as it sounds, I am thankful that my kids were with me.

Friday we were taking are typical weekday afternoon drive to get the husband from work. On the way we have to pass through a mile long tunnel. I can't think of a time where there isn't traffic in this tunnel. And that was the case Friday afternoon.

The three of us were at a stop in the middle of the tunnel. Static coming from the radio while my boy was gabbing away. I heard the blare of a horn from behind. I glanced in the rear view mirror expecting to see a car switching lanes. Even though you aren't allowed to do this in these tunnels, people do it all the time. What I saw was a car a few hundred feet back, slowly creeping towards us. He mustn't have been paying attention and that resulted in the driver behind him laying on his horn.

I turned my eyes to the cars in front of us. Hopefully we would be moving again soon.

The movement that occurred was not the movement I expected. Mr. Hyundai behind us mustn't have been paying attention yet again. Thank goodness our car was there to stop him. Hard.

BOOM!!

BOOM!!


My head whacked off the head rest, which hurt like a son of a bitch. My girl's head must have done the same to her head rest. Screw the car, my girl was hurt! I threw open my door and practically ripped her door off. Her tears were falling hard and fast over her cheeks. Her screams were shrill and echoed through the tunnel. She was grabbing her head. I looked in her eyes, told her to move her head, and asked if she was ok. Once I realized she was more scared than anything else, I turned to face the asshole who hit me and was now walking towards me.

If the kids weren't in the car, I would have ripped him a new asshole. It took everything I had to not face him and say, "What the fuck?" Livid was too tame of a word to describe how I felt. I walked towards my bumper to examine the damage. Lucky for him, it's minimal. Just a few scratches. Also lucky for him that we are all ok. A little sore and very shaken up, but ok.

What I find funny (now, not at the time) is that my boy wasn't phased by any part of the accident. He was just fascinated by the new scratches on our Chevy red car.

What to be when I grow up

Ever since I was a little girl, I knew I wanted to be a teacher.

Quite often you would find my in the living room. My Cabbage Patch Dolls were lined up along the couch, with a few stuffed animals in between. I would pull the piano bench the the middle of the floor in front of the couch. This was my desk. I would teach my students to count, color, and sing. Those years of piano lessons did come in handy at times.


When I was a senior in high school, I began to look at colleges. I wanted to live on campus, but still close enough to come home on weekends should I choose. I found a school 2 hours away. I was still able to come home, but I was far enough away to have some freedom. That freedom eventually got the best of me. My grades begin to slip and after 2 years I realized that I was a little too far from home. I moved back home and transferred to a college in the city, 15 minutes away.

My grades continued to improve and I was moving into my education classes. I loved my classes and my professors. I made some new friends and discovered some old ones went to that same school as well. In my last year at this school, I started second guessing my major of Elementary Education. Psychology classes were some of my required classes, and I excelled in those. I began to contemplate changing to Child Psychology as my major. Or at the very least, adding it as a minor.

What held me back from making the switch was timing. I was already in my last year. If I switched, it would be taking a step backwards. Grants and loans also came into play. I wasn't sure if I could get anymore assistance if I went to school longer than I already had at this point.

While the wheels were turning in my head, someone else finally made my decision for me. My boyfriend, now husband, and I found out we were expecting. There was no way I could go to school and care for a newborn. I won't deny that I tried. I started my student teaching, but it just wasn't working out. I took a few months off and when I returned to school, I took a few classes to accrue the credits I needed to graduate.


This was 9 years ago. I have had various jobs with kids, and today I am a stay-at-home mom. I am happy where I am, but sometimes I still wonder, what if.

Occasionally I will hear a commercial for a school or see an ad. Sometimes I think about going back for some sort of psychology degree. But then I see a sign that proves I am where I need to be.



If you saw this picture next to an ad explaining you can get your social worker degree in as little as a year, would you choose this school?



Obviously this child is upset. Having a degree in social work would mean you could hopefully help this child to smile, not cry.



This picture? The itch to go back to school has been scratched, thank you very much! If I want to see a psycho child, I'll rent the Exorcist, k?

The struggle to desire

The other day while sitting at a red light, I turned to look at you. Your long blond hair and your baby blues - they took me back to when we first met.

We were merely children. High school sophomores. Even though I was young, I knew. You were the one I was meant to be with. Marriage and children certainly weren't n my mind at the age of 16, but that is what happened.

Looking back on our life together, it hasn't always been easy. We have both worked hard to get where we are today. There is a chance of great things happening in our future. We deserve it and I really hope things go the way we want.

As excited as I am, I am also saddened by the things that may not come.


I've talked about it before and it's an issue I still struggle with. Babies. Their soft skin, powdery smell, and tiny toes. Being pregnant were some of the best months of my life. Except for swollen feet. I could do without that again.

When I see and hear about friends who are expecting, I am overjoyed for them. But I also feel a little pang of jealousy in the pit of my stomach. If you are one of those friends, please don't take this as me raining on your parade. That is not my intention, but knowing this is most likely something I will not experience again sometimes hurts.

Having children is something I knew I always wanted. From a biological standpoint, that is what a woman is supposed to do - have babies. Being told you can't, especially for a woman who doesn't always like to hear no, can be difficult.


This is not about my husband squashing my dreams. I agree with his reasoning and I am happy with my life. Our children are growing more independent and we have a mostly well established schedule. Adding a baby would mean rearranging schedules, buying car seats and all the equipment they need, and pack a bag for where ever we go. I love babies, but do I really want to start over again? I'm not sure if I do.

But that doesn't mean the desire to hold another baby of my own doesn't creep in sometimes.

When is it too much?

Before I let it all out, I want to congratulate Shell. It's the one year anniversary of Pour Your Heart Out. I can't believe it's been a year!

Make sure you check out some of the links. You can even do your own - there are prizes this week if you do to help celebrate!

Now onto my issues.....

Just a brief reminder that everyone linking is pouring their hearts out and we should all be respectful in our comments.

This reminder really shouldn't be necessary, but we're all aware that people can be disrespectful when they're hiding behind the screen.

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This is my blog. Well, one of them. There are many like it, but this one is mine. Thanks to a lovely little thing called freedom of speech, I'm free to post what I choose. I am not a fan of drama nor do I like to hurt people. I have never written (nor will I ever) a post with the intent to do one or both of those things. Yet, that is exactly what happened.


The husband was lead to a post I wrote last week on my other blog. Do I care if he reads what I write? No. After all, he's the one that set up my other blog with a custom domain. Does he read my blog? Very rarely. But a few days ago he was directed to what was then my latest post.

He was anything but impressed. I didn't intend for him to be upset. Other SAHMs can most likely relate to the feeling of not having enough help, as was evident in the comments. The husband does more than enough for our family, but some days, I just want someone to take over my job. I don't care if it's Joe Shmoe from down the street!


What this all boils down to is my wondering what I should post and how much information I should throw out there.


When I started my other blog, All You Need is Love, I emailed friends and family and told anyone who would listen about it. I started this blog, Jules Out Loud, because there are some things I just don't feel comfortable having my family read. If any of them have stumbled upon this blog I am not aware of it. However I did have an incident a few weeks ago that made me think otherwise.


Someone searched for "Blog Evonne" and landed here. Yes, my name was in my profile at the time, but I don't use it on this particular blog. My other blog, where my real name is plastered on the bottom of every post, did not yield such a search result.

That really made me wonder who is reading what I have to say. I'm not savvy enough to figure out who searched that, but it did freak me out a bit.


Because we don't know who is reading and what could happen after hitting publish, how do we know when what we put out there is too much?

Open letter to iTunes

Me and iTunes, we don't always get along. It's not very often that I buy music, but I do subscribe to a podcast for the midgets.


Quick shoutout to Night Light Stories! If you have your own midgets, go check out their stories!


When I hear there's a new story, I get all kinds of excited. A new story grants me at least 15 minutes of quiet in the car.

I launch iTunes, hook up my pretty pink iPod, and download the new story. It's a quick 20 second process, but then I have to sync my iPod. Here is where the problems start.

One of 2 things always happens. Either the new story isn't added to my iPod, or it is, but all the other stories are deleted. If the latter happens, then I have to resync all the stories, which takes no less than 3 tries. Every time.

For my birthday last month, the in-laws got me a gift card for iTunes. I was looking forward to listening to some old school Madonna, but I was not looking forward to the process of getting her from my library onto my iPod.

So....


Dear iTunes,

Fuck you, ok. Fuck. You. I should have known that this would not be easy when you decided to go as slow as molasses in the dead of winter. After a 30 minutes search, I finally find my songs of choice and began to make my purchases. After Vogue, you thanked me (how polite), but then asked if I wanted to Ping my friends. First off, what the hell is that? Second, no. I clicked your little box asking to not ask me that after every purchase.

Why did you feel the need to ask if I wanted to Ping my friends after Like a Prayer? And Material Girl? And This Used to be My Playground? I said no. You want Ping, I'll show you some ping. Right upside you head!

After another 15 minutes, my 8 songs are purchased and sitting happily in my library. Time to sync. *cringe*

The simple thing would have been to check the little box next to my songs and click on sync. I guess since the latest updates, that's not an option anymore? I clicked sync and thought I was doing everything right. I double check my iPod and there is no Madonna on there. What the hell?!?

5 tries later and voila! Madonna! Unfortunately in this process, a previous purchased album was no longer on my iPod. The next 30 minutes were spent trying to get that album back on my iPod. I tried to authorize my computer about as many times as I entered my password. How many times that was, I'm not sure. But it was a lot. I finally had to give up so I could go do the mom thing.

After dinner I spent another hour authorizing, entering my password, yelling, and crying. I purchased this album. Why can't I listen to it, you bastards?

Please fix this problem. I really don't want to go through this again when I want to spend the rest of my gift card.

Sincerely,
Me


ps. I would like to retract this letter because it turns out the problem all lays upon the husband. Had I known all I had to do was use his password, I wouldn't have spent 2 hours pulling my hair out. Damn him!